Box of Chocolates
by Ivy Kendall
Summary: A gift for adarosbsg60: Notifications are never each, but chocolate helps, and so does knowing the colours of the rainbow.


Sharon looked through the glass at the children playing inside the small conference room. They had arrived hours earlier, called out from school and daycare to accompany their mother to the offices of the Major Crimes Unit.

"What are you going to tell them?" Andy asked, coming up behind her.

"I'm working on that. God... this is the worst part of the job."

"Yup." He squeezed her shoulder then dropped his hand back into his pocket, and stood silently beside her.

His presence made her self-conscious, and she turned to him and smiled. "You know, you don't have to stick around for this if you don't want to. I'm sure you can find something else to do."

Andy just shrugged, "Meh... I think we've got a pretty decent routine here. You always do a good job with notifying the families, and Provenza and me flanking you shows we're really sorry to have to tell them. I don't see what's so different this time around."

"This time?" Sharon looked over her glasses at him, "you know what's so different this time. No amount of logic will work this time. These are children who won't understand why their father went to work this morning and he's not going to come home again... ever. Usually we only tell adults and let them handle the children, but we can't do that this time. In fact, we're not even sure their mother will be able to handle the truth, the way she buckled earlier."

"You think she might have been in on it?"

"I don't know. My instincts as a mother are too close to the surface at the moment, but yes... I'm thinking that might be the case. She was just a little too upset, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, thought the same thing. Poor kids... they don't have any idea what's coming."

Sharon looked at him more fully and smiled a little, "Are you sure _you_ can handle this?"

Andy chuckled, then put his hand on her upper back, "Come on Captain, let's see why they pay you the big bucks."

"Mmm..." she hummed.

Together they entered the room and smiled at the three little heads playing with paper and pencils. The ingenuity of children never ceased to amaze. Instead of sitting obediently at the table drawing pictures, these children had gathered all the pencils and were racing them along the floor on a track outlined by the paper. Sharon and Andy had to be careful where they placed their feet.

The littlest one smiled up at Sharon and reached up her hand. "Wanna play?" she asked in her four year old lisp.

"Maybe," Sharon said, lowering herself to the ground. "What is the game?"

"It's just racing," the oldest said. He was a smart boy of seven, and he had been keeping his younger sisters entertained all afternoon.

"I love racing," Andy said, moving to the other end of the track and sitting by the middle child. "You want to show me your car?" he asked her.

She pointed, then returned her thumb to her mouth. She was not as relaxed as her siblings and both Andy and Sharon recognized she would be the hardest one to talk to.

"So," the boy started, "are you going to tell us what's happened?" He didn't look up from his pencil-cars, but to the adults in the room, it felt as though he were looking right through them.

"Figured it out, did you?" Andy said, knowing direct was the way to talk to this kid.

"It wasn't hard. Dad is the only one who sits on the floor and plays with us, and since he's not around I figure something happened. I knew it was bad the longer we stayed in here. Did something happen to our Mom too?"

This time three sets of eyes moved from Andy to Sharon looking for answers.

"What do you think has happened?" Sharon asked cautiously.

"I don't know. I just know Dad is always home with us when the sun starts to go down. Or when he's away, he comes home with chocolate."

Andy smiled at the boy. "You like chocolate, Kid?"

"Nah... not so much. But the girls do, so it's okay."

Sharon couldn't help a giggle at that, as she realized she had just been handed the answer to her problem.

"What kind of chocolate did your father usually bring home?"

"Different kinds. The girls really like Smarties."

As if to confirm his story, both curly heads nodded up and down.

"Chocolate is one of my favourite things too. It always makes me feel better."

"Is Daddy coming home?" the middle child finally asked.

"No Baby GIrl, he isn't coming home." Andy took her on his lap and held her close.

"Why not? the four year old asked.

"He's dead," her brother said matter of factly.

"What's 'dead'?" the littlest asked again.

"Dead means we're never going to see him again," her brother enlightened her.

The middle girl sunk further into Andy's lap, while the youngest crawled towards Sharon and climbed onto her legs. "Why?"

Sharon swallowed and hoped her inspiration held.

"Well, something really bad happened to your Daddy. Some people who were not very nice hurt him so much that he couldn't get up again. He wanted to come home to you like always, but he can't. He wants you to have the chocolate, though."

"You have Daddy's chocolate?" she asked confused.

"Yes, I'll be right back."

Sharon left and after a quick trip to the vending machine, she returned with a box of Smarties.

"Daddy wanted you to have this," she said, kneeling down on the ground again and pulling the youngest into her arms. "But first, we have to look at this chocolate very carefully. What's your favourite colour?"

"I always get green," the brother said.

"I like purple," the middle girl said adjusting herself in Andy's lap.

"I get pink," the youngest said. "Pink is for princesses and Daddy always tells me I'm his littlest princess.

"That sounds just right," Sharon said, opening the box and giving them each a piece with their favourite colour. "But look at all these other colours. What do you think yellow and blue and red and brown and black are for?"

The children looked at her in confusion, and Andy tilted his head, not understanding where Sharon was going.

"I don't know. What do you think they are?" the oldest said.

"Well, what other things did your Daddy like to do?"

"He goes fishing."

"He reads stories."

"He likes to dance in his underwear," the youngest giggled, and the laugh was infectious.

"Okay," Sharon said, "how about we make red the colour of everything your Daddy liked to do. All the silly stuff and the fun stuff and the important stuff." Sharon divided the red candies between the three, and as they ate she kept talking. "Think about your Daddy with every Smartie. Remember him reading you books, and giving your snacks, and hugging you and kissing you."

"He also helps Grandma," the middle one said.

"Oh yes," Sharon nodded. "Your Daddy helped a lot of people, didn't he. Who did he help? Did he help your family and friends, maybe people who lived around you in your neighbourhood? How about we make the blue ones your Daddy's helping colour." Sharon separated the blue as she had the red. "Think of all the people who were happy to have your Daddy around to help them, and who will never forget his kindness."

The children smiled, and nibbled their candies.

"What's yellow going to be?" the youngest asked.

"Well..." Sharon thought, remembering the profile of their victim. "I know your Daddy helped coach soccer, didn't he?"

The children nodded.

"And he helped at your church, and he always ran in marathons to raise money to help other people. So I think yellow should be all the volunteering your Daddy did. All the ways he helped people."

"That's a good one," the oldest approved, and again they ate their share of the candy.

"I've got one," Andy said, now that he understood. "Your Dad was really smart. How about brown being all the really smart things he was thinking, like..."

"How to put the baskeball net up so I could play without it being too high?" the oldest asked.

"Exactly. And all the dreams he had for the three of you when you grew up."

"Daddy was smart," the middle child said, and Sharon and Andy shared a glance when they realized the girl had referred to her father in the past tense.

"Then these brown ones are all the smart things your Daddy thought, all the ideas and wishes he had, and everything he figured out on his own."

"That leaves one colour left," the oldest noticed, once the brown had been distributed and eaten as quickly as the yellow, blue and red ones had.

"What should black be?" Sharon asked them.

"Umm... we have one for his helping strangers, and one for helping our family, and one for him at home, and one for him thinking... " the oldest was working through the symbolism while the adults remained quiet.

"Sugar?" the youngest asked.

Neither Andy or Sharon understood the word but it obviously meant something to the children as they smiled, "Yeah, Sugar. Daddy loved animals. Sugar was his cat when he was a kid. We couldn't have any 'cause of the allergies, but Daddy always spoke to pets every chance he got."

"Perfect," Sharon said, dividing the black smarties between the children.

"All we have left is our colours," the middle child noted.

"That's right, and these are the special colours for just you. Every time you have your special colour you can remember all the little things Daddy did just for you and no one else. What are some of your special times?" Sharon asked.

"Riding a bike," the oldest started.

"Having a cold."

"Dressing my dollies."

"Tucking me into bed."

"Making popsicles."

"Learning to swim."

"Is the box empty?" the youngest asked, picking it up.

"Yes it is," Sharon replied. "So what do we do with it?"

"Recycle it," the youngest continued.

"That's right, Honey, and that's what they're going to do with your Daddy, too. Your family is going to have a special service at your church and maybe a party afterwards, and you are going to put him in the ground. But even though your Daddy's body might be gone, you now have all of his colours inside you, just like the coloured chocolates. Everything that made him special is inside each of you."

"Won't Daddy need his colours?" the youngest asked.

"Not no more," her brother said, "that's the dying part. Daddy doesn't need his colours because he's not living anymore. Now it's our turn to have all his colours."

"Oh," the youngest said, leaning back against Sharon.

The five in the room sat in silence for awhile, until a quick rap on the window brought their attention back.

"Yes?" Sharon asked Provenza once she had stepped out of the room.

"Sorry Captain, I didn't meant to interrupt. The wife turned. She knew something so we've read her her rights and she'll be here for awhile. She asked us to call her in-laws to come for the children. They're here now."

Sharon looked behind her Lieutenant at an older couple who looked quite sad and concerned. She couldn't imagine loosing her child, and she hoped her team would be able to bring them some answers in the days to come.

"Papa!" the middle girl exclaimed, running out of the conference room and into her grandfather's arms. The other children followed, trailing Andy behind them.

"Grandma," the littlest started when her grandmother picked her up. "It's okay about Daddy. He can't show his colours anymore but we have them inside of us."

"What?" the older woman said, looking at Sharon.

"She explained it to us," the oldest cleared up the confusion. "Dad isn't coming home and we know that. But he was all sorts of colours when he was alive and now we get to show everyone what his colours were. I think he'd like that."

"Oh my... yes, Honey, that's right. You are your Daddy's colours," their grandmother smiled through her tears. Then she looked up at Sharon, "Thank you, Captain. I didn't know what to tell them, but you've given me my answer. I will always be grateful."

"Here kids," Andy said, passing each of them another box of Smarties.

"Daddy's chocolates!" the middle child exclaimed. "These are Daddy's colours, Papa."

Nodding their thanks once more, the grandparents left with the three children.

"That was absolutely brilliant." Andy said behind Sharon.

"I don't know about that, Andy, but I hope it made things a little bit easier."

Andy held out one more package of chocolate and smiled at her, "I know it did.


End file.
